Thanks for your comments on this and earlier haiku, Alan (I forgot that people could leave comments online, so I am a little slow to read them). I like how your own haiku added at the end make the comments feel haibun-like. My recent experience of standing beside Walden Pond and hearing the train whistle felt full of irony and contrasts–especially with the large pay parking lot, busy highway and busy commuter train-line so close. What would Walden think if he could see it now?
This reminds me of the time when I worked for Trump and I came home from my hateful night-shift casino job on the train. I could see what the engineer could see as I looked down the aisle to the front car’s window. The head lights showed the tracks surrounded by the dark. Then out of the dark for an instant, an arm appeared with the hand giving the finger, and suddenly the train screeched to a halt. I could hear the train’s bell chiming. As the conductor passed, I asked why we stopped. He said; “Someone committed suicide and we’ll be here for a while; he’s smeared on the side of the car and their cleaning up now. What a mess. “Two hours later the train continued on to my stop. when I was going up the aisle, I remembered watching as a kid the Twilight Zone episode forty years ago and just blurted out; “All off for Willoughby, All off for Willoughby.“
in the night sky an owl’s call
(Google Twilight Zone: "A Stop at Willoughby" and watch it" ,